


Jealousy Looks Good On You

by masulevin



Category: Far Cry 5
Genre: Biting, Creampie, Dirty Talk, Drinking, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Flirting, Hair-pulling, Jealousy, Semi-Public Sex, Size Kink, Slow Dancing, Swearing, Teasing, Vaginal Fingering, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-03
Updated: 2020-01-03
Packaged: 2021-02-27 06:40:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22092721
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masulevin/pseuds/masulevin
Summary: There’s a girl flirting with Staci at the bar.It’s hard to tell from over here, but it looks like he’s flirting back. Asshole. What a fucking douchebag.
Relationships: Female Deputy | Judge/Staci Pratt, Staci Pratt/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 31





	Jealousy Looks Good On You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hypheae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hypheae/gifts).



> My Christmas gift for Erin! I love you, babe.

There’s a girl flirting with Staci at the bar. It’s raising Alice’s hackles, making her scowl into her empty drink even though she’s trying to hide it, even though she’s trying to make sure her face stays fucking neutral like it should be. She just can’t help herself from being annoyed, from glancing over their way to see if he’s let her down yet or if he’s flirting back.

It’s hard to tell from over here, but it looks like he’s _flirting back_. Asshole. What a fucking douchebag.

She tightens her grip on the bottle and turns away, purposefully squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin so he won’t be able to tell she’s annoyed when he comes back. She won’t give him the satisfaction of reacting to whatever game he’s playing right now.

Well. Not _visibly_ reacting at least. It’s too late to do anything about the irritation coiling in her chest. She’s just going to have to ignore it.

She pretends to be watching the dancing couples near the jukebox when he finally leaves that woman behind and makes his way over to her, pretends not to notice him until he wraps his arm around her shoulders and waggles her replacement beer in her face. She shrugs off his touch, takes the beer with a cool “thanks,” and doesn’t look at him.

She can feel him hesitate, the brief uncertainty over her sudden attitude shift making him pause as he reassesses, recalculates. He puts his drink down on the hightop and puts his hand on her bare knee instead, fingers cold and a little wet from the condensation on the glass. His other arm stays around the back of her chair, elbow cracking when he bends it to lean in close to speak to her where he won’t be overheard.

“Somethin’ wrong, baby?” His breath stirs her hair by her ear, and she fights off a shiver.

“Nope,” she says, popping the P in a way that makes him huff out a laugh. She takes a swig of her drink and still doesn’t look at him. 

He doesn’t pull away, doesn’t do anything except slide his hand just a little farther up her thigh. Her muscle twitches, torn between instinctively wanting to part her legs for him and wanting to pull away out of pure irritation, and his fingers squeeze again.

“You sure?” His nose bumps into her temple, his lips against her jawline. “That mean you’ll dance with me?” He brushes his lips over her cheek, not quite a kiss, just an aimless gesture of affection that makes her cheeks heat.

She tilts her head a little, and he takes that as an invitation to press light, teasing kisses to her hairline even though really she’d meant for him to stop. “There’s not _someone else_ you want to dance with?”

His thumb strokes over the skin of her thigh, hand slipping up a little higher but still below the hem of the skirt she’s kind of regretting wearing. “Someone else like the blonde at the bar?”

She turns and looks even though she doesn’t want to, immediately finds the woman still standing in the same spot. They lock eyes for half a second, and the other woman looks away, down at her own drink that she probably had to pay for herself. Alice’s mouth twists in a bit of a smirk, and she tries to hide it by taking another deep swig of her beer.

Staci isn’t fooled. He stands up straight, laughing, takes his beer from where he left it and drinks it before he says anything else. She’s still staring at the ring of condensation it left behind when he leans back down and says, “I could invite her over if you’d rather. She seemed pretty willing.”

She glares at him before she realizes he’s joking, making him sputter a laugh into his drink. It makes her face flush even darker and her glare deepens, but then he’s putting his drink down and taking hers from her too, pulling her out of her seat and closer to the other dancing couples.

She lets him, going with him until he’s holding her with one arm around her waist and his other hand around hers. 

“Don’t be like that, babe. You know I only have eyes for you,” he says, beaming down at her, looking real fuckin’ pleased with himself. She wrinkles her nose at him and he spins her around in time with the music.

There’s no reason for him to be acting this smug, but the way he’s holding her against his chest makes her feel like she’s done something he appreciates even though she’s barely said anything to him since he left for refills. He tugs her a little closer as the song changes to something slower, places her hand on his shoulder and then moves his hands to rest low on her hips.

Another half turn and she can see that bitch at the bar, still watching them for some godforsaken reason, and Alice holds her gaze as she moves her hands up to the base of Staci’s neck, one of them combing through the shorter, soft hairs there.

A half-turn more and he can see what she’s watching, and she’s treated to another embarrassing laugh from him as he dips down to brush his lips again across the shell of her ear.

“Jealousy’s a good look on you,” he says, then he kisses her temple as she scowls.

“Fuck you, Stace,” she says, digging her nails into the nape of his neck and not making a single movement to pull away even when he laughs again.

He slides his hands down from her hips to her ass, cupping her through the thin material of her skirt. She pushes closer to him, up on her toes, and he catches her earlobe between his lips. She gasps and he squeezes her again, lifting her up just enough to show he can before moving his hands back to her hips.

“Gonna mark your territory?” His voice is low in her ear, gravely, undeniably turned on by whatever this is that’s happening here. “Show her I’m yours?”

She turns toward him slightly, still following his steps as he moves to the music. “That what you fuckin’ want?”

He catches her lips with his, finally, warm and dry against hers. She slides one hand deeper into his hair as she kisses him back, gripping just this side of too tight. He teases across her lips with the tip of his tongue and then pulls back, breaking the kiss before it can get too heated, and she chases his mouth for just a half-second before she comes back to herself and remembers they’re still in the middle of the Spread Eagle during happy hour.

She stops herself from kissing him again, untangles her fingers from his hair, and just rests her cheek against his as they go back to dancing. It feels like her heart is beating out of her chest, though, Staci’s words swirling around in her mind as the heat of his body seeps into hers. 

She can’t help but needle him just a little bit more as the jealousy starts to fade. “You seem pretty pleased with yourself.”

He hums a little, rubbing one soothing hand up and then back down her back. “I got the most beautiful girl in the county spitting mad over me. It’s a pretty good feeling.”

She is _not_ blushing. “You’re an asshole, Staci Pratt.”

“You love me, Alice MacNeil.” His wandering hand dips back down to her ass, just for a second, just long enough to squeeze and send another thrill through her.

She grunts at his words and tries not to shiver at his hands, now pretty sure he was letting that girl flirt with him on purpose. “Maybe so,” she says, and he laughs again like she thought he might, and then he stands up straight to press a kiss to her forehead.

She wrinkles her nose at him.

He winks right back.

She wants to kiss him again. Wants _him_ to kiss _her_ again. Wants him to make good on that stupid teasing throwaway phrase about her marking her territory like she’s a fucking dog. 

She tightens her hold on his hair and pulls his face back down to hers so she can bite his lower lip, the crowd around them be damned. 

He groans, yanks her hips hard against his, waits until she releases his lip to bite hers right back. His bite is harsher, the points of his teeth digging in harder, but he follows it up with a swipe of his tongue that soothes the pain and makes her want more at the same time.

He stops her from kissing him again with both his hands on her jaw, their dancing paused so abruptly that a nearby couple bumps into them. Staci jerks with their movement, studying her face, and then he nods like he’s found the answer to a question she’s not totally sure he asked.

His lips twist into another smirk as he releases her face and grabs her hand instead, pulling her behind him off the dance floor and through the bar toward the back door. Her heartbeat picks up as she realizes what they’re doing — not heading out to the parking lot, where his truck waits, and not toward the bathrooms where they’ve snuck off once or twice before, but toward the empty lot behind the bar.

The cold air hits her flushed face, but it doesn’t clear her head any as Staci tugs her around by her hand and tucks her against the wall behind the door with one hand on her waist and the other against the wood by her head. She presses herself backward, lips parting, as he crowds into her space, pressing his hips against hers. His belt buckle bites into her hipbone as he shifts to tuck his leg between hers.

“Still mad at me, baby?”

It’s hard to see his expression in the shadows, but it looks like he’s still smirking at her. She grabs handfuls of his flannel at his waist and leans her head back to try and catch his eye. “Maybe a little.”

It seems like the right answer. Staci makes an appeasing sound and slides his hand up from her hip to just below her breast under her shirt. She arches her back, pressing into his touch, tightening her grip on him while she waits to see what he’s going to do.

His nose brushes against hers. “Think there’s anything I can do to get you to forgive me?” He leans in just a fraction more, close enough to kiss her if she just tilted her head a little, and waits with his forehead pressed against hers.

She’s sure he must be able to feel her heart pounding against her ribs, must be able to hear the dry click of her throat as she tries to swallow, must be able to read the thoughts swirling through her head, because as soon as she realizes she wants him to, he’s moving his free hand from the wall to the nape of her neck. He tangles his fingers in her hair, tugging hard enough to lit her head back and encourage a hiss from her lips.

“Yeah?” he asks, lips still barely an inch from hers.

“Yeah,” she says, and that’s all he needs to hear.

He’s on her like he’s been waiting all day, like he’s been waiting since he picked her up from her apartment and saw her bare legs in this stupid skirt. And maybe, just based on how hard he presses his lips to hers, how fast he slips his tongue into her mouth, he has.

She gives as good as she gets, sucking on his tongue and yanking his flannel from the waistband of his pants so she can get her hands under it. As soon as she sinks her nails into the skin over his ribs, he slips his hand higher to squeeze her breast through her bra, then he yanks the flimsy fabric down to pinch at her nipple when she groans into his mouth.

The breeze chills her as it hits the bare skin of her stomach, raising goosebumps as quickly as Staci’s touch. He pushes his leg harder between hers, his thigh grinding against her core. She presses down into the sensation even as she bites at his lower lip, catching his skin between her teeth and tugging until he pulls at her hair again to get her to stop.

She leans her head back, laughing, and groans when he moves his lips to her neck without hesitation. He goes right for her sensitive points, lips and tongue and teeth teasing her just shy of leaving bruises where she can’t hide them, sending jolts of pleasure down her spine. She bites her lip to hold herself quiet as he tugs at her nipple again, pinches him right back when she feels him press a chuckle into the skin of her throat.

“You’re such an ass _hole_ ,” she says, again, voice cracking at the end when he yanks on her hair and sinks his teeth into the skin below her collarbone. The delicious bite of pain makes her forget where she is, forget that there’s a bar full of people just behind her back, and she clenches her jaw tight and groans out loud.

Staci laughs again, pulling his hand free of her shirt and putting just enough space between them so he can get it up her skirt instead. His fingers sweep over the outside of her thigh, up to her hip and back down, until she lifts one foot and braces her heel on the wall behind her, opening herself up for his questing fingers.

He rests his forehead against hers, holding her still as he moves the seat of her panties aside and teases his trigger finger between her folds. She groans again, a little more quietly this time, and squeezes one of her hands between their bodies and paws at his front, finding his cock trapped in his jeans and squeezing until he groans back at her.

“You’re wet,” he says, voice low and rough and delicious.

She laughs. “And you’re hard.”

She gives his cock a firm stroke through the tight denim to prove her point, and he retaliates by sliding his finger inside her up to the third knuckle.

_“Fuck.”_

He kisses her as he laughs. He adds another finger, pumping shallowly with two fingers while his thumb finds her clit. He sets a steady rhythm as they stand in each other’s space, breathing the same air.

His body is warm against hers as he asks, “That what you want me to do? Fuck you right here?”

Her eyes pop open and she looks around, at the dark houses behind the bar, the bit of parking lot she can see off to the side, at the closed door just beside them. If anyone walked out through it for some reason, there’d be no hiding what they were up to…

“You wanna prove I’m yours?” He punctuates his question with a sharp press of his thumb, and she throws her head back hard enough to bump it into the wall of the Spread Eagle. “You alright?”

She doesn’t answer. “Fuck me, come on.”

He grunts as she squeezes him again, then pulls his fingers free and presents them to her to clean for him. She does, staring into his eyes as she wraps her tongue around his fingers, sucking the taste of herself from his skin.

As soon as she releases his fingers, he pulls his other hand from her hair and takes just enough of a step back to get his hands on his ridiculous belt buckle to loosen it. She watches, trying vainly to catch her breath, as he frees his cock and gives it a stroke in the cool night air.

It doesn’t matter how many times she sees it, the sight of Staci standing in front of her with his deliciously large cock in his hand never fails to make her shiver. She licks her lips and starts to turn around so she can brace her hands on the wall, but he shakes his head at her, a sharp motion that knocks a lock of his hair free so that it falls into his eyes. She smiles and brushes it back behind his ear as he moves back in to kiss her, both of his hands going to her thighs to lift her up and pin her between his body and the wall.

“Mmm, I love this skirt on you,” he says, nuzzling against the side of her face as she pulls the fabric out of the way and reaches between them with eager fingers to pull her panties to the side and guide the tip of his cock against her entrance. “You should wear it — _fuck_ — more often.”

They groan together as he slides slowly inside of her, her weight in his arms making the movement smooth and inexorable, She closes her eyes and bites her lip as he hilts himself, clutching at his shoulders as she adjusts to the feeling of him stretching her, filling her just right. 

It’s _fucking exquisite._

“Shut up and fuck me,” she says, moving to lock her arms around his shoulders instead of just holding on, like he’s ever just shut up and done what anyone’s told him in his whole life.

He proves her right by simply leaning more of his weight against her, pushing her harder into the wall and shoving his cock impossibly deeper. His lips brush against her as he whispers, “Yes ma’am,” into her ear, then he captures her lips in another deep kiss before he finally begins to truly fuck her.

He doesn’t hold back, using his arms to hold her up as he pulls out just far enough to thrust back in. He does it again, harder this time, and then sets a steady pace that has her toes curling in her shoes and her teeth digging into her lower lip to keep herself from attracting the attention of anyone inside the bar behind her.

Still, the thrill of it, of being so close to so many people who don’t know what they’re doing, makes shivers run down her spine that have less to do with how well Staci’s fucking her and more to do with the secret thrill she’s always felt at the idea of being caught like this. 

Staci keeps his lips on her the best he can, pressing feather-light kisses against her lips and neck like he can’t help himself. He leaves his groans on her skin like they belong there, to her, and she tangles one hand in his hair and yanks because… yeah, they do.

They’re _hers._

Staci tips his head back as she gets a firm grasp on his hair, starts to babble as he fucks into her harder, breath hot against her cheek. “You feel so good Alice, _fuck,_ you’re so good to me, baby.” He moans and stops thrusting suddenly, grinding deep inside her instead. “Can you touch yourself for me? I wanna feel you come.”

He must be getting close, as desperate as he sounds, and she nods fast. A bead of sweat drips down her temple onto her cheek, and Staci kisses it away as he starts to fuck her again. His thrusts are harder now, shallower, each one ending with a sharp grind of his hips against hers that make it barely necessary for her to touch herself at all, but she does it anyway, reaching between their bodies with one hand while the other stays firmly locked around Staci’s neck.

The last thing she needs right now is for him to accidentally drop her.

Her fingers unerringly find her clit, two of them setting a fast pace designed more to get her off than to match anything Staci’s doing. She clenches around him immediately and he groans, fucking her faster, starting to babble more because he just can’t help it.

“You’re so fucking good, Alice, you’re so pretty, I love you like this…” He trails off with a groan and she moans right along with him as she rapidly approaches her end. She can feel herself clenching around him, faster and faster, each word dripping from his lips pushing her even higher. “I love you, just you. You’re my girl, nobody else—“

He buries his face in her neck and whines as the music from the Spread Eagle suddenly gets louder, voices in the parking lot off to the side of the building warning them that they could be interrupted.

It’s just the spike of adrenaline Alice needs, and she comes just like that, with Staci buried inside her and pressed against her, her fingers working her clit through it all, sparks of pleasure whiting out her vision and forcing her to bury her cry in his hair.

It’s so fucking good she can’t do anything but hold on until it’s done and she’s just left with the aftershocks, with the cold wind of Fall’s End on her face and the heat of Staci’s body pressed against the rest of her.

The voices in the parking lot are gone, replaced with the rumble of engines, and she pets at Staci’s hair to get his attention, as though his attention could be on anything else.

“It’s okay,” she says, so quiet she’s not sure he can hear her even with how close they are. “They’re leaving. Gonna come for me?”

Staci nods against her, helpless, the sudden slow drag of his cock against her inner walls almost too much for her. She moans aloud, surprised at the overstimulation, and he fucks back into her hard at the sound. The wood wall behind her scrapes against her back as she’s pressed back against it and then slides back down. She wraps both arms around Staci’s neck again, holding on tight as he chases his end without any additional regard for hers.

“Goddamn, you’re good at this, babe,” she says, a little laugh bubbling up at the back of her throat. “Keep going. Don’t stop. You feel, _hng,_ fucking amazing.”

He twists his head at her words and captures her lips, silencing her with his tongue as his thrusts hard into her twice, fast, then stills as he spills into her with a groan. Alice shivers as he fills her, clenching around him on purpose to drag another shattered moan from him.

His grip on her slips a little, and she unlocks her ankles from behind his back to support her own weight on shaky legs. He lets her go, grunting when his cock slips free of her, pauses only long enough to tuck himself away before he’s gathering her up in his arms for a tight hug.

“You’re gonna get us caught one of these days,” Staci says, voice still rough but his laughter coming back.

She holds him just as tight, ignoring her trembling muscles and the feeling of his come starting to drip onto her thighs. “This was your idea, dumbass.”

He chuckles and stands up straight before leaning in for a slow, sweet kiss. 

“Guess you’re rubbing off on me,” he says, then kisses her once more.

She grabs hold of the front of his flannel, holding him against her. Their noses bump together. “You fuckin’ love it.”

He kisses her once more, then steps away to tuck his shirt in and redo his belt buckle. “Yeah, well. Maybe I do.”

He looks up at her from under his lashes, and she crosses her arms over her chest, smiling. He’s too fucking pretty for his own good, and he knows it, but at least she knows it too.

“Just take me home, Stace.”

He perks up a little, cocky grin stretching across his face once more. “Yes, ma’am.”


End file.
